Covet (Clann)

cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. With that quick grin and those blue eyes under a flop of straight, light blond hair, he could easily find someone new. Last year before Anne snapped him up, he’d briefly dated Vanessa Faulkner, and she was notoriously picky about her arm candy.
    He stared at me. “You act like moving on after getting dumped is no big deal.”
    “You moved on fast enough after Vanessa.”
    He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t count dating her as a real relationship. More like pretending to be a giant Ken doll for her to endlessly make over. Besides, I broke up with her, not the other way around.” Seeing my eyebrows shoot up, he added, “Anne told me what you overheard her saying to her sister in history class. Did you guys think I’d just sit back and wait for Vanessa to dump me first?”
    Interesting. My respect for him went up several notches.
    “Speaking of getting dumped,” he continued, “I heard what you did to Tristan. Rumor has it the event was brutal, even by high school standards. Did you really dump him in front of his entire family?”
    I winced. No telling what version of the real story he’d heard.
    I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “I didn’t dump Tristan.”
    “Really? Because that’s not what I heard. Guess I should consider myself lucky Anne wasn’t that harsh. All I got was a Dear John text.”
    “My breakup with Tristan isn’t anything like your breakup with Anne. Trust me.” Why was he even comparing the two events?
    “Oh yeah? How do you know?”
    I snorted. Unless he was half Clann and half vamp and Anne had suddenly joined the Clann without telling me, there was no way their breakup was even remotely similar to mine. “Look, you don’t know anything about us or what really happened—”
    “And you don’t know anything about me and Anne.”
    Only because she wouldn’t tell me what happened. I gritted my teeth, searching for a retort.
    The bell rang. He jumped up. “See you in English lit.” He walked off, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, his notebook and textbook somehow staying tucked between his left forearm and his body. Maybe from all that practice carrying the ball for a touchdown as our varsity Indians’ best receiver.
    I bent down to gather my things and noticed the book he’d left open on the table, cover side up. Legends and Monsters of East Texas , it proclaimed. What in the world? I flipped it over. A snarling black cat, almost as large as a tiger, took up half the left page, its claws reaching out as if to attack the villager in front of it.
    Boys. They were into the weirdest stuff.
    * * *
    The next day, I discovered Ron and I shared second period chemistry class, too.
    “Hey, want to be lab partners?” he leaned over and muttered after Mr. Knouse told everyone to partner up and choose lab tables.
    I started to agree then hesitated, remembering yesterday’s conversation in the library. Did I really want the added drama in my life?
    Sighing, I went with my first instinct. “Sure, why not? Fair warning, though, I suck big-time at anything having to do with numbers. Science included.”
    One corner of his mouth slanted upward. “Then you’re in luck. Science is my one area of expertise. Well, that and football.”
    I grinned as I followed him to a table. “That remains to be seen at this week’s game. Isn’t Texas High our biggest rival? If I remember correctly, they really stomped your butts last year.”
    “Please. That was just bad luck. Trust me, this year those Tigers will be nothing but kittens in need of a nap by the time we get done with them.”
    I dropped my bags to the floor and sat on one of the two stools at our table. When I rested my forearms on it, the contrast with the table’s black surface made my forearms and hands blindingly white.
    I hastily dropped my hands to my lap. ”You know, if you’re as good as you say you are, about chemistry I mean, I might be willing to do a trade. Help with our homework in here in exchange for tutoring in English lit? You’re not the only one who picks up on the gossip every now and then, and rumor has it that English is definitely not one of your areas of expertise.”
    “Did Anne say that?” The poor boy actually looked hopeful, projecting shards of longing over my nerve endings, and a sympathetic ache welled up in my chest.
    I tried to laugh it away. “She might have mentioned helping you a little